The yamen now was no longer silent. Ta-Ling could hear shrill cries and the hurried march of feet. Men were running wildly here and there, an unknown fear in their hearts. The Chinaman’s hopes rose; the viceroy would send for him to know the cause of the firing and he must before long be discovered. He tugged desperately but fruitlessly at his bonds, but Langdon had done his work well. Exhausted and breathless, he at length resigned himself to fate. Then he heard his own name cried by the viceroy’s crier, resounding loudly throughout the yamen. After what seemed an eternity, the door of his cell was thrown open and several guards entered the dark prison. “Here they are,” he heard a soldier exclaim, and then he felt himself grasped roughly and carried out into the courtyard. The next moment a light was thrust in his face and then the guards recoiled in mortal fear as they beheld the features of the Chinese tyrant. “We beg a million pardons, Excellency,” the leader cried, cringing before the terrible eye of the viceroy’s secretary, while his companions prostrated themselves before him. Ta-Ling made a sign to remove his gag, his joy at deliverance fighting with his outraged dignity at being so roughly handled. “Take off these irons, you dogs,” he hissed when he could speak; “the keys are on the floor of the cell.” The keys were quickly brought from where Ta-Ling had seen them thrown by the midshipmen, and soon he was free. “Meet me at the yamen gate,” he ordered huskily, kicking a kneeling figure savagely to punctuate his words; and then he hastened to his quarters to replace the clothes of which his former captives had deprived him. Upon the threshold of his room he encountered the frail figure of the aged mandarin, his features stamped with fear. “You traitor,” he cried in a weak trembling voice, as he caught sight of the disheveled Ta-Ling; “so this is the end of your vain boasting. The foreign dogs are coming to destroy me.” The secretary used all of his powers of persuasion to reassure his master. He told the viceroy hurriedly of the escape of the Americans and the loss of the chart, but protested that there was no immediate danger from the guns of the fleet. Leading the trembling old man back to his own room, he called loudly for the treasurer, appreciating that in order to make true his words to his master not a second must be wasted. Receiving no answer to his call, he retraced his steps to his room, and there he was not surprised to find the bound body of his friend in the dark corner where Phil had thrown him. After setting the man free, he gave him hasty instructions and sent him to keep the viceroy company, while he feverishly threw on the garments of a mandarin before joining his awaiting soldiers. Hastily writing an order he took it to the viceroy for signature, then calling a waiting messenger he directed it be taken at once to the Tartar general at the forts.